More NSFW-ness in this chapter. Does it seem like these two only talk seriously when sex is involved? Well, I guess they don’t get a lot of alone time so they need to multitask their relationship… Note this is the first time she loosens up enough to call him Zev. : )

Oh man oh man oh man I’ve been looking forward to this chapter ever since I decided Liz would fight Howe with Attack on Titan. It turned out pretty much the way I wanted it to. Liz herself has been eyeing Go Away by symphonic metal band Delain as a personal theme song. >.>

Also this one took so long to write because I wasn’t sure where I should put the chapter break, and also Cauthrien has been a pain as far as her little added scene goes. I may do editing on this later. In fact, I already want to rewrite the story and cut out large, irrelevant sections. : P

 

Previous chapter: Haven; next chapter: Landsmeet

 

Denerim

 

It was five days to Redcliffe – they were closer to the edge of the mountains than Elizabeth had thought – and immediately they went to Arlessa Isolde with the Ashes in their little white silk bag. A doctor and a mage from the Circle Tower took them and argued with Brother Genitivi over what should be done with them; the doctor suggested that Arl Eamon ingest the ashes, while the mage wanted to see if simply applying them to Eamon’s skin would help.

Whatever they tried, in front of all of them, the Arl frowned, his hands flexed slightly, and his eyes slowly opened. “Where am I?” he whispered, very weakly.

“Be calm, dear husband,” Isolde said, although she was on the verge of happy tears. “You have been deathly ill for a very long time. Do you remember anything?”

“I dreamed… terrible things, yet I have the feeling that at least some of it was no dream. Where is Connor? Where is our boy?” Eamon asked anxiously, his voice cracking with disuse. The doctor hastened to sit him up and offered him a glass of water.

“He lives, thank the Maker,” Isolde said. “Many awful things have happened, Eamon. I will tell you later. For now, rest, and regain your strength.”

“I would hear it now,” Eamon said. “But you may begin by telling me why the younger Cousland is here, and who all these other people are.”

Elizabeth took a step forward as Isolde turned to her, and bowed. “I am afraid that I am currently the only remaining Cousland, Arl Eamon. Arlessa Isolde requested my help in finding your cure, and I have done what I could. These are my friends and companions, who journeyed with me.”

“I see,” Eamon said, and already his voice was stronger. “And is that… Alistair, with you? You’ve grown, lad.”

Alistair grinned sheepishly. “I would hope so, my lord. I’m a Grey Warden now. Being a Templar didn’t work out for me so well.”

“I see…” Eamon turned to Isolde. “How long have I been asleep?”

“Many months,” Isolde said. “But rest, if you can. I will bring you food and drink. We will speak of more serious things this evening.”

“Very well,” Eamon said with a sigh. “I will not overstress myself for today. May I see Connor?”

Isolde smiled. “Yes. I will fetch him.”

 

That afternoon, Elizabeth went with Sten down to the village. Dwyn was home this time, and with a little intimidation and a little bribery, he handed over Sten’s sword – a beautiful two-handed weapon almost as tall as she was.

Sten smiled in his subtle way as they left the village and hiked up the hill to return to the castle. “Thank you, kadan.”

“I don’t understand,” Elizabeth said. “I did nothing.”

“You never gave up hope that this could be done, even when I did. That this one weapon could be found. That my honour could be restored. You do not understand the Qun in the least, but… you would do well under it.”

“Thank you,” she said, feeling oddly flattered, even though she saw the Qun as horribly restrictive and she would never want to live by it.

“You are stubborn… and honourable, and you are a woman who fights.” She smiled a little at the reference, and he nodded. “You are direct and honest, despite your naivety. When the Qunari return to these shores, I will not look for you in battle.”

They’d had debates on the differences between Qunari and Fereldens before, and she was resigned to his insistence that the Qunari would someday return to invade the rest of the continent. “I will not look for you either, Sten. But I am glad you are with us now.” She remembered something. “Will you be returning to your people, now that you have regained your sword and your honour?”

“No. Fighting the Blight is important. I have come to realize that, and that you are better off with my strength. I will remain with you until it is done.”

“Thank you,” she said again with all her heart.

 

They rested there for the night, rejoicing in Arl Eamon’s miraculous recovery, and after they had eaten, Eamon asked them to remain for a while. He had apparently gotten the full story out of Isolde. “I am troubled by what I have learned, and there is much to be done. I would be remiss, however, if I did not begin by thanking those who have done so much already.” He bowed to Elizabeth. “You and your companions have saved my life not once, but twice, you have kept my family and people safe and whole, and you have done more for Ferelden than its ersatz Regent Loghain, recruiting allies for our war against the Blight.”

“I thought he was organizing the defense of the Bannorn,” Elizabeth said.

“Why are you defending him?” Alistair muttered.

“He has – among the Banns loyal to him. The others suspect his rise to power, and I fear we have a civil war on our hands at the very worst possible time. The darkspawn will certainly take advantage of our weakness unless we can convince him to step down and unite Ferelden under one true king.”

“Here it comes,” Alistair muttered again.

“But – I get ahead of myself. I would like to offer you a reward for all you have done for me personally. What can I offer you?”

Elizabeth blinked. “I… I hadn’t thought of that, my lord. Your aid against the Blight was all I hoped for.”

“I understand, but regardless of your motivations I feel you are worthy of a reward. You and your companions shall be known as champions of Redcliffe, and any of you will be welcome guests here at any time.”

Zevran put up a hand like a schoolboy. “Were you told of her quest for revenge on a certain Arl Howe?”

“I was, and I offer whatever efforts I can make towards casting him down and exposing his treachery to the Landsmeet.”

“Thank you, ser,” Elizabeth said.

“Now, to speak of Loghain. Long have I known him; he is a sensible man who has never desired power for its own sake. But… if he has let Cailan die, orchestrated my assassination, and forced his daughter the Queen to play second fiddle, he has gone mad with ambition.” Eamon sighed. “Well, many a man will go a little mad in the face of great danger, and between the darkspawn, the prospect of control, and his no-doubt unabated phobia of the Orlesians, his madness can perhaps be accounted for.” Elizabeth and Alistair looked at each other; she remembered the letters found in Cailan’s chest at Ostagar. “But we will not let madness slide; we must stop him. And we cannot stop him with civil war, or else the darkspawn will overrun all of Ferelden and we will be slaughtered even as we try to kill each other.”

“What do you propose we do?” Elizabeth asked.

“I will spread word of what Loghain has done. But without proof, my word will not sway the ones loyal to him, and he still has powerful allies. They will give pause, but we must combine it with a challenge that Loghain himself cannot ignore. We need someone with a stronger claim to the throne than his daughter the Queen.”

Alistair groaned and hid his face in his hands. “Nooo, do I have to?”

“I would not propose such a think if there was an alternative,” Eamon said kindly. “But the unthinkable has happened. Without you, Loghain wins, and I would have to support him for the sake of Ferelden, to end the Blight. Is that what you want?”

Alistair’s face fell into dejected lines. “I… but I… no, my lord.”

“We shall go to Denerim tomorrow,” Eamon said. “I shall call the Landsmeet, and the Ferelden nobles will decide who will rule, one way or another. In the meantime, Ser Perth will organize my army to prepare for battle against the darkspawn.”

 

Before Elizabeth went to bed, Morrigan pulled her aside, taking her into her room and producing the black book Elizabeth had found in the Circle Tower. “I have… made a disturbing discovery.”

“About the book?” Elizabeth asked.

“Partially. It is, as you may have expected, written by my mother. I had expected to find spells she used, a sketch of the power she commanded. But this is not it.”

“What is it that could disturb even you?” Elizabeth asked.

“One thing in particular.” Morrigan flipped through the book until she came to a page which she had folded down at the corner. Elizabeth did not approve of the folding of page corners, especially in a book that looked as if it was going to fall about anyway, but there were more important concerns at hand. “Here, in great detail, Flemeth describes the means by which she has survived for centuries.”

“Is it blood magic? A spell of immortality?” Even blood magic did not bother Morrigan overly much, although Elizabeth believed that she used it infrequently if at all.

“If only it were so,” Morrigan said, shaking her head. “Flemeth has raised many daughters over her lifetime. There are tales of these other Witches of the Wild in Chasind legend, yet I have never seen a one. I had always wondered why not. And now… I know. They are all Flemeth! When her body grows old and wizened, she raises a daughter, and when the time is right, takes her daughter’s body for her own!”

“How horrible!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “Are you certain this book is true?”

“I recognize all of it,” Morrigan said, flipping through the book and pointing to things; pictures of plants, of animals, large paragraphs written in faded brown ink that Elizabeth hoped was not blood. “It details the training and preparation of each daughter, and I… I am to be her next host.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Elizabeth said. “But… why would she send you with us, on this dangerous journey, if she needs you so badly? She looks far beyond child-bearing years.”

“Flemeth does not explain her motives,” Morrigan said, although somehow she looked uncomfortable. Elizabeth tilted her head curiously, but Morrigan looked her defiantly in the eyes. “She must have some purpose for it. Perhaps she thinks that living forever is useless if the Blight runs rampant over her home. Although… she could fight it herself if… if she had… me. You would probably not know the difference if such a thing were to happen. More cackling, probably.”

“I will not insult you by doubting you further,” Elizabeth said. “What are you going to do about it?”

“There really is only one response to such a thing, isn’t there?” Morrigan said. “I will not sit about like an empty sack waiting to be filled! Flemeth must be slain, and I need your help to do it.”

“I understand,” Elizabeth said.

Morrigan shook her head. “No, you don’t. If she is slain while I am there, I do not know if she will not just try to possess me right then and there. Therefore, you will have to do this alone, or at least without me. And I do not know if she will be truly dead, even then, but at least it will take her years to find a new host and recover her power. The important thing, however, is not just that she is slain but that you find her true grimoire. With it, I will be able to defend against her in the future.”

“All right,” Elizabeth said. “I will go to fight Flemeth. Will she still be in the Korcari Wilds?”

“I believe so,” Morrigan said, tension leaving her body. “Thank you. You have taken some of the weight from my mind. I… I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye, but… you are a good person. A loyal person, anyway.”

“It’s a Ferelden trait,” Elizabeth said, trying to joke. “It’s why we consider dogs our best friends.”

Huan whimpered sleepily from somewhere around her feet.

“Right,” Morrigan said, trying to smile. “Well… Arl Eamon will probably go along the northern highway to Denerim. I will go with him. That will keep me far and away out of danger while you do this for me. …Thank you.”

 

So they set out on the southern highway, while Morrigan joined Arl Eamon’s company with a half-hearted promise not to cause too much trouble. Alistair dithered for a while, not wanting to let Morrigan run off with no supervision, but also wanting to stay with Elizabeth and away from Arl Eamon just a little longer. In the end, he went with Elizabeth. “Even if that witch is tricking you, I don’t suppose it would be particularly a bad thing if someone stopped her.”

“Didn’t she save your life at one point?” Zevran asked, and Alistair shut up with a grimace.

At camp that evening, she sat with Oghren, who seemed down, drinking more and speaking less than usual. “Are you all right?”

“Ah, just… I’ve been missing Orzammar a little, y’know? Didn’t think I would. But I guess… flies live in dung, but they’d miss it if it was gone.”

“Charming analogy,” Leliana said.

“Would you ever go back?” Elizabeth asked.

“Nah, I can’t. I’d rather be dead than be casteless in Orzammar, fulla tin-plated back-stabbing wannabe tyrants. I’d rather be a useless lump of a dwarf out here than a useless lump of a dwarf in there.”

“You’re not useless,” Elizabeth said. “You’ve been very helpful. The way you fight is… you just rip through our enemies like a harvester cutting grain.”

“Grain? Oh, right, that yellow stuff that you make surfacer beer and bread out of. Ah, that’s because I’m a berserker. You know what a berserker is?”

“A… wild fighter?” She might have said undisciplined, but she still didn’t know Oghren that well and didn’t want to offend him – although he seemed difficult to offend.

“Close. What ye have to do is get yourself good and angry, point yourself at the enemy, and let ‘er rip.” Oghren surveyed her from head to toe. “Not unlike the way you fight sometimes. You’d make a good berserker.”

“I… do find myself angry when I’m fighting, a lot,” Elizabeth said. “Is that what you mean? But it’s difficult to sustain, even if I wanted to.”

“I’ll show you what I mean next time we run into some darkspawn. You gotta keep thinking angry thoughts.”

“Really? That’s all you do?”

Oghren spat into the fire. “Mostly. The hard part for a lot of kids is keeping a good big reserve of anger in the pit of their stomach ready for when they have to fight, but then getting back to normal afterwards. You don’t want to be taking off your friend’s heads too.”

“I see,” Elizabeth said. “I suppose I have a few things to be angry about. And you do too.”

“Aye. Branka alone’s given me enough fodder for one lifetime, Stone preserve the poor gal, let alone everything else that’s happened… But enough moping, I’ll lose my reputation. You’ve been a good pal, Eliza.”

“Please don’t call me that,” Elizabeth said. What was it with people and wanting to shorten her name?

“Sod it, but the only other thing I feel right calling you is Warden, and that’s stuffy. Anyway, I was going to say… you’ve never tried my special brew, have you?”

“No, I don’t drink a lot.”

Oghren giggled in his gravelly voice. “Well, as a treat for bein’ such a good friend, I figured I’d let you have a taste. My own family’s recipe. After all we’ve been through, you’re kind of like family to me, or at least the closest thing I’ve had in years. Like a baby sister or something. But just one taste, mind you. It takes a while to brew this stuff.”

“I… I’m not sure I want to. You’ve brewed it yourself, haven’t you?”

“Oh, no need to be scared, Warden, it’s just booze. C’mon, I’m proud of this one.”

“All right,” she said. “Just a sip.”

Oghren uncorked his flask. Or was it his other flask? He had too many of them. “Just a sip,” he assured her. She raised it to her lips.

She had the vague idea that Wynne was rushing towards them, crying out in warning, but she was already falling… She passed out before she hit the ground.

 

She woke up in her tent… which showed signs of great activity… next to Zevran… naked. She was too hungover to scream in alarm; her head pounded like a wardrum and she shut her eyes and burrowed farther into his warmth.

He stirred. “Mm… Ah, my darling Liz… Be careful what you accept from Oghren from now on, hmm?”

“Too loud,” she moaned, and he stifled a chuckle.

“I’m not complaining on my behalf. And you certainly seemed to enjoy yourself… But I think you like being in control of your own actions, don’t you? Not to mention remembering them.”

“Oh Maker…” she groaned. Her blush was not helping her headache. “No, I remember nothing.”

“A pity, it was quite exciting. A little in need of practice, but I didn’t know you had such debauchery in you.”

She whined into his shoulder and he stopped talking mercifully for a moment, sparing both her head and her blushing cheeks.

She only had a few minutes before he was nudging her. “We should start getting ready to get up and eat and move on.” She whined again but untangled herself from him and set about dressing herself. Half her armour was missing, but when she looked outside, someone had neatly stacked it by the door of her tent. Everyone knew, didn’t they? Everyone knew about… whatever she had done last night, and she didn’t. They must have no respect left for her, especially Sten and Shale. She was a little glad Morrigan wasn’t with them. She wasn’t sure what Morrigan would do, but if she chose to mock her, Elizabeth would probably have spontaneously combusted.

She ate breakfast avoiding the eyes of the others, and helped pack up and began the march without speaking, resigning herself to having a permanently red face from now on. But Alistair came up to her, looking secretive. “If you’re worried about last night, well, ummm… don’t. We all know to blame it on Oghren. Even Sten. Honest.”

“I didn’t know it would be that strong,” she moaned. “I had less than a drop. I know Wynne’s had some. How can she stand it?”

“A practiced palate, my dear,” Wynne said, coming up behind her and giving her a hug. “I would have warned you if I knew what that curmudgeon was up to. He’s not the least bit remorseful, either.”

“That’s not true,” Oghren said. “But now I know not to offer my special brew to lightweights. Won’t have to panic about spills.”

“Not that kind of remorse,” Wynne sighed in exasperation.

“Fine,” Oghren said. “Look, I’m sorry I got you so drunk you passed out instantaneously. I didn’t mean for that to happen, and after you listened to me whinge and all.”

“Very good,” Wynne said.

“And then you tried to hump the elf in front of all of us and almost fell in the fire when you woke up again,” Oghren said, slowly breaking into a lecherous grin. Elizabeth clapped her hands to her face and marched onwards at an uncomfortably fast pace. Wynne scolded Oghren behind her.

 

When they had reached the Korcari Wilds, the social agony of that lost night had begun to fade, and she was beginning to become refocused on her real goal. The closer she came, the more apprehensive she was. She knew Alistair and Leliana felt it too. Whatever Sten and Shale felt, they showed no sign. Oghren and Zevran did not seem particularly bothered by the idea of going to kill the Witch of the Wilds, and Wynne practically felt it was a righteous duty. And Huan didn’t care at all as long as she was with him.

Flemeth was waiting for them when they finally found the little hut past the ruins. “And so you return. Lovely Morrigan has at last found someone willing to dance to her tune. Such enchanting music she plays, wouldn’t you say?”

“Should I dance to your tune instead?” Elizabeth asked without humour.

“Why dance at all?” Flemeth inquired pertly. “Why not sing?” She cackled at her little joke. “What has Morrigan told you, hmm? What little plan has she hatched this time?”

“She knows how you extend your unnatural lifespan, Flemeth of legends,” Elizabeth said.

Flemeth chuckled. “That she does. The question is… do you?”

“What do you mean?” Elizabeth asked.

“Don’t let her twist your resolution,” Alistair said. “Morrigan’s bad… but she’s worse.”

“Ah, but it is an old, old story. One that Flemeth has heard before… and even told.”

“What is the truth, then?” Elizabeth asked.

“The truth, she says! As if it were nothing! No, no, far better the lie.” Flemeth’s voice sank into a soothing purr. “Far better the comfort of blankets and shadows and a mother’s love. I am sure she wishes for my real grimoire. Why not take it, and only tell her I am slain? It would be interesting to see what she does with her freedom. Enlightening, even. Would you grant an old woman that?”

“She would know,” Elizabeth said. “Even if I wished to lie to her – and I do not – she would see through it easily.”

“Such loyalty to one you hardly know! We all believe what we want to believe. She will believe you if you have resolution.”

“I know I owe you my life,” Elizabeth said. “But Morrigan has helped me many times over the last months – at your behest, I know. But I owe her my life many times over.”

“So whoever saves your life most has the most claim on it? An odd philosophy and one that will be painful to live by. And of course, you have fewer qualms about killing a strange old woman in a swamp, than you would a beautiful young woman who travels with you. But whatever you need to justify it to yourself.”

“I must live with my own decisions, but so must those around me,” Elizabeth said. “I travel with Morrigan, eat with her, talk with her. I know that I still do not know her well, but how can I face her with failure once I gave her my word? So I apologize, but I must fulfil what I have promised.”

“It is a dance poor Flemeth knows well,” Flemeth sighed. “Let us hope she remembers the steps. Come! She will earn what she takes.” Flemeth began to glow, and before they could make any sort of move, she vanished and a High dragon appeared in her place.

“All right then,” Alistair said, “I think I know how she rescued us from that tower. Duck!”

Flemeth was terrifying to fight. Elizabeth had been expecting spells, curses, the manipulation of the forest itself, even shapeshifting, but not shapeshifting into a dragon. They had to scatter into the trees, although they could not go far before they were stopped by the swamp. Flemeth spat fire at them, setting many of the trees on fire. Amid the flames and the still-freezing water, they fought and fought for over an hour. By the time Oghren split the dragon’s skull with his axe, Elizabeth’s entire body hurt and her sword felt like it was made of stone. Alistair and Leliana let out a ragged cheer, and she felt a brief rush of relief and pride that they had won. She still had to find the grimoire and then leave that place as quickly as possible.

Lingering in her mind was the question: had Flemeth chosen to be defeated?

 

It took them another week to return to Denerim from the Korcari Wilds, and Elizabeth led them directly to Arl Eamon’s estate. Eamon was still discussing things with the nobles, so he told the companions to relax and do as they pleased. Genitivi had gone back to his home, and Morrigan rejoined their group – briefly, for when Elizabeth handed her the other black book, her face lit up brightly and she disappeared into the depths of Eamon’s mansion to read it somewhere.

The others amused themselves by picking up other odd jobs; Leliana went shopping with Wynne, and Sten joined a militia group as a trainer. The air through the city was more tense than before. The alienage had been barricaded, because of a plague, Elizabeth heard, and many people were leaving to flee to Kirkwall or the Free Marches. Elizabeth herself decided it was time for a break without being in charge of anything for once. Teagan was there, and he happily welcomed her to Denerim; she spent a pleasant hour talking with him. Teagan assured her he had been working on her behalf among the other Banns, and that he was making progress in eroding Loghain’s support.

Later, Zevran and Elizabeth were walking through the district south of the river. Elizabeth had just been to the market to collect a set of gloves and boots she had commissioned from an eccentric artisanal blacksmith, and then they had set out to explore more of the city. Zevran had turned to take a shortcut through an alley, when he stopped short suddenly. Elizabeth looked up and saw that the exit of the alley had been blocked by men in leather armour. She turned and saw that the other end behind them had been blocked similarly. There were maybe eight men in total, and some of them had crossbows. She heard the cawing of crows, and Zevran had a tense, angry look on his face. Huan’s hackles rose and he growled, ready to spring.

One man, young, dark-haired, and bearded, approached them from the group behind them. “Here is the mighty Grey Warden Elizabeth Cousland at long last. The Crows send their greetings yet again. And Zevran, how nice to see you again.” He had a slight Antivan accent, but he sounded a lot more Fereldan than Zevran did.

“Hello, Taliesin,” Zevran said sharply, not responding to the other’s sarcasm. “Tell me, were you sent? Or did you volunteer for this job?”

“Oh, I volunteered, of course,” the young assassin said cheerfully. “When I heard that my dear friend Zevran had gone rogue, I simply had to see for myself.”

“Is that so? Well here I am, in the flesh.”

“You can return with me, Zevran,” Taliesin said earnestly, dropping the sarcasm. “I know why you did it, and I don’t blame you. It’s not too late, though. Come back and we’ll make up a story. Anyone can make a mistake.”

“Of course, for that to work, I’d have to be dead,” Elizabeth said in a low voice.

“And I am not about to let that happen,” Zevran said strongly. “I’m sorry, my old friend, but the answer is no. I’m not coming back… and you should have stayed in Antiva. I’ll kill any Crow who comes after her. Tell them that.”

“You’ve gone soft!” Taliesin’s face twisted in anger. “If that’s the way you want to play it, you’ll die here with your Fereldan whore, just like-!”

Elizabeth didn’t even see Zevran move. One moment he was beside her, and the next, he had crossed the distance to Taliesin, who somehow managed to parry Zevran’s vicious dagger strike. Taliesin’s words had inflamed her heart as well, and she and Huan charged at the men at the other end of the alley, since there was no way she was getting past the master assassin duel.

Crossbows twanged, and while she managed to deflect two of them with her shield, she stumbled as one grazed her leg, carving a line of fire across her flesh. But then she was upon them, and Huan was already bearing one crossbowman to the ground as she attacked the one man with a sword. The other crossbowmen were backing away, trying to reload their bows, but even as they re-aimed their weapons, Huan finished with his first target and lunged at a second, dragging him down by the leg.

Elizabeth thought that the man she was fighting was not very used to dealing with Fereldan styles of fighting; he didn’t seem to know what to do with her shield. The bolt from the second archer struck the corner of the shield, punching a small hole in the steel and becoming stuck there inches from her face. She ignored it in favour of stabbing her opponent in the shoulder and, as he reeled, stabbing him again in the throat. Then she turned to rush the crossbowman, smashing his weapon aside and stabbing him through his leather armour in the gut. He gave a horrible squeal as she pulled her bloody sword free, and died as he hit the ground.

Zevran had somehow managed to deal with Taliesin and the three men behind him by himself, and he turned to give her a look of mixed emotions. “I wish… it had not been Taliesin. But if we hide the bodies, the Crows will think that I died with them, at least for a little while.”

“I’m sorry,” Elizabeth said. “He was a friend of yours?”

Zevran nodded grimly. “He and another… we worked as a unit for many years, until…”

Elizabeth swayed and cried out, sick pain radiating through her leg. Zevran ran to her and caught her.

“What happened? Were you injured?”

“Crossbow bolt…” Elizabeth tapped the area and winced. The world was growing fuzzy. “Poisoned?”

“Hang on, Liz. …Hang on!” She felt him grab her and hoist her over his shoulder, and then she passed out.

 

She woke up in her bed at Arl Eamon’s estate, Zevran and Wynne hovering over her. She coughed – her mouth felt like she had eaten shoe leather – and tried to sit up. “What happened?”

“You took a dose of Crow poison on that bolt, mi amor,” Zevran said, helping her up. “Deadly stuff. It is lucky we were not too far from the mansion.”

“Zevran knew the antidote, of course,” Wynne said. “He saved you.” She gave Elizabeth an odd look, that Elizabeth was too tired to interpret.

“What’s in it?” Elizabeth asked.

Wynne showed her a sheaf of paper on which she had written it for future reference, and Elizabeth read it several times and nodded. It might be useful to know, if the Crows were stubborn in their pursuit of her. She turned to Zevran. “Thank you. It must feel good – to be free, and to have saved my life yet again.”

“You gave me something to live for in the first place, which feels best of all,” Zevran said, before his affectionate smile turned into his usual smirk. “Things I’m sure you’d rather discuss without Madam Wynne here.”

“Elizabeth just survived a poisoning attempt,” Wynne said sternly. “I would recommend against… coitus for at least one day. It might strain her heart.”

Zevran rolled his eyes and sighed. “Fine, fine. I shouldn’t want to kill you just after I killed someone for trying to kill you. We all do our share of murdering around here, don’t we?”

“I’d like to talk to Elizabeth for a moment, in fact, if you don’t mind,” Wynne said.

Zevran bowed. “By all means. I’ll be downstairs. If you don’t let me know when you’re done, I’ll give the dwarf ten new pick-up lines and tell him you found him attractive.”

“Good heavens,” Wynne said. “Off with you!”

When Zevran had gone, closing the door behind him, Wynne turned to Elizabeth with an awkward look. “Elizabeth, about Zevran…”

“I won’t-”

Wynne held up a hand, forestalling Elizabeth’s interruption. “I have watched you for a time, and perhaps I was wrong. There seems to be something special between the two of you. His demeanour changes when he is with you. There is a tenderness to his gaze I’d never seen until now.”

“Do you really think so?” Elizabeth asked. “I sometimes thought so, but I wasn’t really sure.”

“Do not think of yourself so poorly. Trust your feelings. I know you love him back.”

Elizabeth blushed. Wynne was right. She did love Zevran. She was afraid to say it; she had been protecting herself so hard, even if ineffectually, but she didn’t want to say that she loved him and hear him have to deny her. Unless she had said it in her drunken stupor a couple weeks ago. More than once she had almost said it in climax even when sober. But… “Yes… I do.”

“I think I was too harsh in my judgement before, and I am sorry.”

“I accept your apology,” Elizabeth said. “But you were just trying to look out for me. And I know he has driven you to distraction on occasion.”

Wynne smiled ruefully. “More than on occasion. But it seems that at heart he is a good man. Let me warn you, as your would-be mentor, that what you have may not last forever. Duty or death may part you, but love’s worthiness is not diminished because of that. Instead, learn to cherish every precious moment that you spend together. And for those of us watching, well… it brings warmth to these old bones to know that something so beautiful can be found in the midst of chaos and strife.”

Elizabeth had been blushing harder and harder. “And yet there was that one night that was not so beautiful…”

Wynne snorted. “That was entirely Oghren’s fault, and as far as I can tell has not made a negative impact in his feelings for you. And we know it wasn’t truly you, Elizabeth. Besides, if there had been no one else around, is it not enjoyable to get drunk with the one you care for?”

“If you put it that way,” Elizabeth surrendered. “Am I allowed to get up today?”

“As long as you don’t leave the hall or get in a fight, dear. Try not to get angry, even.” Wynne got up. “I will go tell that rascal that he can pester you again.”

“Thank you,” Elizabeth said, smiling.

 

Arl Eamon sent for her the next day, urgently and without warning.

“Lady Elizabeth, this is Erlina.”

A dark-haired elf woman dressed as a high-class servant bowed to her, taking over immediately from the Arl. “I am Queen Anora’s handmaiden, and she sent me here to ask for your help.”

“My help?” Elizabeth asked, confused. If Loghain knew who she was, the Queen surely knew, but… to ask for her help?

“The Queen, she is in a difficult position,” Erlina said with a light Orlesian accent. “She loved her husband, no? And trusted her father to protect him. When he returns with no king and only dark rumours, what is she to think? She worries, no? But when she tries to speak with him, he does not answer. He tells her not to trouble herself. So my queen suspects she cannot trust her father anymore. And Lord Loghain, he is very subtle, no? But Rendon Howe, he is privy to all the secrets, and… not so subtle.”

“Howe is involved?” Elizabeth demanded.

Erlina nodded. “So she goes to Howe. A visit from the queen to the new Arl of Denerim is only a matter of courtesy. And she demands answers. And he calls her every sort of name, ‘traitor’ being the kindest, and locks her in a guest room.”

“Howe does like to fling about the word ‘traitor’,” Elizabeth said grimly. “She is still alive, right?”

“Yes, but if I go to her father for help, if the palace guard besiege the Denerim estate, she will certainly be killed before they can reach her. I think… I think her life is in danger. I heard Howe say she would be a greater ally dead than alive, especially if her death could be blamed in some way on Arl Eamon.”

“Loghain would not accept that, would he?” Elizabeth said, shocked. “She is still his daughter. Would he really sacrifice her just to bring down Arl Eamon?”

“We seem to have no choice but to trust Queen Anora,” Eamon said. “She is well loved. If she dies and the blame is placed on me, we will have no more political strength than a fly.”

“Very well,” Elizabeth said. “Did you have a plan?”

“I acquired some guard uniforms while I was sneaking out of the Denerim estate,” Erlina said, gesturing to a large basket behind her. “Arl Howe hires so many new guards every day, a few more would not cause any stir.”

“How many do you have?” Elizabeth asked.

“Four.”

“And we should stick to the most unmemorable faces among us… which could be difficult.” Elizabeth put her hand to her mouth, thinking. “Alistair, certainly, and me… perhaps Zevran as well, and… hmm. Leliana or Morrigan, I think.”

“Best to take Morrigan,” Alistair said from the corner of the room, and she jumped – she hadn’t seen him at all, he had been sitting so quietly on a stool. “I know I don’t like her, but her magic could be very useful – even more useful than Leliana’s subterfuge. Besides, if we need to lie our way into or out of anything, I’m sure your boyfriend could handle it.”

“Your… boyfri-” Eamon looked confused, and vaguely offended at the thought of the noble daughter of the Couslands consorting with an elf assassin, and Elizabeth shook her head at Alistair.

“It’s not important. But you make a good point, Alistair.”

“I’m just happy to be included. Hooray.”

“I will escort you to the servant’s entrance,” Erlina said. “We must be in and out with my queen before anyone is the wiser. We shall disguise her in another uniform; she knows how to fight, just like you, Lady Elizabeth.”

“This plan sounds as good as any,” Elizabeth said. “Although I will warn you now – if we run into Howe alone, I will kill him.”

“He is a dangerous man,” Erlina said. “I will not blame you… unless it gets my lady caught.”

Elizabeth bowed her head. “I understand. I will try not to let my feelings interfere with Ferelden’s fate.”

Zevran and Morrigan were sent for, with Morrigan angrily brushing off servants concerned about her usual state of undress right up to Eamon’s chamber. Both of them were eager to be involved, and dressed in the uniforms; Leliana also got wind of it and came in to put make-up on them, something Elizabeth had not even thought of, hiding Zevran’s face tattoo, making Elizabeth and Morrigan a little less striking in their features and Alistair a little more grizzled. She also gave Morrigan a dramatic false scar across her eye, reasoning aloud that observers would remember the scar and not the woman.

Morrigan had some objections, even while she was being made ready. “And you’re just going to believe this story without proof? This woman could just be making it all up to lead you into a trap. ‘Tis a tale almost worthy of my mother, and designed perfectly to ensnare gullible do-gooders like you.”

“It’s a risk I need to take,” Elizabeth said. “And that’s why you are coming along, because surely any trap Howe would devise would not plan for a mage of your skill.”

“And are you intending to flatter your way out of these traps as well?” Morrigan inquired, but subsided.

Then they were off, following Erlina off to the estate. They had to sneak around the outside in order to enter without being suspected, but once inside, Erlina led them anxiously through the passages, which were rather full of other guards. “It’s bad luck living in a place where the whole family’s been killed,” said one. “Howe should knock it down and build a new one.”

“He’ll have to knock down every place he owns, then,” said another guard, and the first guard laughed a little hysterically. Elizabeth looked at them askance. “So when did you leave Highever?”

“Week before yesterday. Never been so glad to leave a place in my life. Bad enough cleaning up the bodies when we arrived, but the citizens! Maker’s breath! If you could kill a man by hating him, we’d have been in our graves months ago.”

Elizabeth ground her teeth and marched on.

“If you had not failed at being a Templar, would you have been a guard?” Morrigan asked Alistair, quietly to avoid attention.

“I didn’t fail at being a Templar, though,” Alistair answered, vaguely indignant, though equally quiet. “I was recruited into the Grey Wardens. There’s a difference there.”

“Oh please,” Morrigan said. “You clearly hated being a Templar. What would have happened if you were not recruited?”

“I would have turned into a drooling lunatic, slaughtered the grand cleric and run through the streets of Denerim in my small clothes, I guess.”

Morrigan snorted with some amusement. “Your self-awareness does you credit.”

“I thought you’d like that,” Alistair said with a grin. Elizabeth blinked. Had Alistair and Morrigan just been… friendly to each other?

They came to a surprisingly unassuming door where two guards stood at attention. Alistair stepped forward. “Hello, there. We’ve… been assigned to relieve you.”

The two looked at each other. “Ain’t never seen you around here before. Newbies assigned to guard Her Ladyship?”

“Who’s your captain?” demanded the other one, drawing his sword.

“Knock them out,” Elizabeth ordered.

One guard inhaled to shout for help. “Sleep,” said Morrigan, and both of them dropped where they stood.

“Amazing, thank you, Morrigan,” Elizabeth said sincerely. “There was a cupboard just around the corner. Alistair, Zevran, you take care of them.”

Erlina stepped closer to the door, which now she saw had an odd blue tint, and knocked. “Queen Anora? Are you in there? I have brought the Grey Wardens. Are you unharmed?”

There was a rustling from inside the room. “Thank the Maker!” cried a woman, imperious and irritated – and yet not without a practical note as well. Elizabeth thought she would like her. “I am unharmed, but there’s been a bit of a complication. Howe got so tired of my badgering that he got his mage to seal the door shut. I’m afraid probably the only way to unseal it is to convince the mage to release his spell – or just kill him.”

“Where is he?” Elizabeth asked.

“He’ll be at Howe’s side, unfortunately. Where Howe is, I wouldn’t know. You could try his office and bedchambers, farther down the hall.”

Elizabeth swallowed hard, beginning to tremble again. Her most hated enemy… she would finally get a chance to see him. There was little chance she could maintain her guard disguise against Howe. This was it.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Zevran, his amber eyes solemn. She nodded. “Let’s go get him.”

“I will stay here,” Erlina said. “I would only get in the way, and they won’t do anything to me for being here. But… be quick, if you can.”

Elizabeth nodded, and led the way at a brisk pace down the hall to Arl Howe’s rooms.

There were four guards here, but Morrigan put three of them to sleep and Zevran slipped behind the fourth and choked him out until he fell unconscious; they hid all four of them in the storage closet. No one else was in the bedchamber, although Elizabeth’s heart was pounding in anticipation. She could hardly think straight, and she felt like she was getting tunnel vision.

There was an inner door in the bedroom, and in fact the room appeared more to be an antechamber converted into a bedroom, which struck her as odd. She flung open the door, went down a short flight of steps, and stepped into the next room.

A guard jumped. “Who’re you?” he demanded, and then an arm snaked out of the wall – or rather out of the prison cell beside him, and broke his neck as he struggled ineffectually.

Elizabeth stepped forward in alarm as the guard slumped to the floor. “Who’s there?”

A man clad only in his undergarments stood inside the cell. “My name is Riordan. I am Senior Grey Warden of Jader. Do I assume correctly that you are intruders, rather than legitimate guards here?” He picked the cell key off the dead guard’s belt and unlocked the door, then began to strip the guard and put his clothes on.

Elizabeth relaxed slightly. He wasn’t making any hostile moves towards them – yet – although she feared he would be terrifying to combat. “I am Elizabeth, and this is Alistair, and we are the last Fereldan Wardens. Does this mean the Orlesians will be coming to aid us against the Blight?”

“I’m afraid not at this point,” Riordan said, still dressing himself. “We had two hundred Wardens and two dozen divisions of support troops standing ready after King Cailan invited us to join him.” Alistair whistled in astonishment. “But we heard nothing else, so I was sent to investigate about a month after King Cailan died; unfortunately, Lord Loghain caught me and had me thrown to the tender mercies of his new Arl of Denerim. I have been here ever since. The Orlesian Wardens still do not know your plight in any detail, and at this point it would take too long to send for aid, I think, from what I overhear Howe saying. You have a month at most before the country is overrun, although Loghain still thinks he can unite the nation and beat them back without Warden help. More fool he.”

Elizabeth stepped back, feeling a little weak. “So little time?” They really had wasted a lot of time in the Frostback Mountains.

Riordan nodded. “From what I understand, if you do not unite the country and take offensive action against the darkspawn now, you will never be able to.”

“Understood,” Alistair said gravely. “Right now we’re rescuing the queen to try and do the first part. Care to help us?”

Riordan shook his head. “I’m afraid I’m a bit weak from my imprisonment and torture. I would only slow you down.”

“Then go to Arl Eamon’s estate,” Alistair said. “Wait for us there.”

“I will do so. Come as quickly as you can. We will have much to discuss.”

“Will you be all right?” Elizabeth asked.

“I will sneak out just as you sneaked in,” Riordan said with a confident smile. “Do not worry for me. I will go directly to Arl Eamon and wait for your return. Good luck!”

There was another door in the room, a door that led to a narrow, spiraling staircase leading down into the depths of the castle. Elizabeth had to stoop to descend, but the direction of the spiral favoured her sword against anyone coming up.

The lower levels of the castle were poorly lit and damp, and the horrid stench of rotting flesh invaded her nostrils like a miasma. Elizabeth strode forward, throwing caution away. She hardly cared if Howe were waiting with a hundred guards. She just wanted to find him. Cynically, she followed the distant sound of screaming.

There were quite a few prisoners in the cells of the castle of the Arl of Denerim, and she did get a little sidetracked by their pleas. Many of them seemed to be decent people locked up wrongfully, whether for crossing Howe or to get them out of the way of his political ambitions, or maybe just because they had looked at him wrong; there were whispers calling him the Butcher of Denerim and there were almost more rotting corpses than prisoners. She wanted to release many of them, but where they could go with all the guards upstairs, she did not know; they were probably safer here for the time being. She resolved that, when Howe was dead, someone should come for the poor souls trapped here.

The last door was slightly ajar, and she could hear Howe’s nasal voice drifting from it, mixed with screaming.

Elizabeth kicked in the door. “Rendon Howe!!”

Howe, in armour and carrying a pair of war-axes, didn’t even have the grace to look surprised. “Well, well, if it isn’t Bryce Cousland’s little spitfire, all grown up and still playing the man. Are you here about your family? Still? What’s the point? The Couslands have been wiped from Ferelden memory and the only one left is a husk of a daughter only likely to end her life under a rock in the Deep Roads. Even the Wardens are gone. You are the last of nothing. Why not go crawl into a hole somewhere and give up?”

“You love to hear yourself talk still, I see,” Elizabeth growled. “Why did you betray my father? You were his friend; he trusted you!”

“Bryce was a traitor and a coward,” Howe spat. “He made trips to Orlais, gave gifts to old enemies, with no recognition for me! He squandered glory that was rightfully mine! I always deserved more! It’s only right his death raised me to the ear of the new king. As for you and your companions…” He blinked at Zevran. “Wait… aren’t you… You’re the one I hired to kill her! What are you doing here with her!?”

“Oh, this and that,” Zevran said with a casual shrug, draping himself against Elizabeth’s shoulder. She ignored him, still glaring daggers at her nemesis. “You can’t deny that Liz is a lot prettier than you are, and she doesn’t kill people for failure.”

“You will still die for your failure,” Howe said coldly. “Well, it seems the Cousland penchant for effortless popularity lives on a moment longer, but you will not hold me back again. There it is! Right there! That damned look in the eye that marked every Cousland success that held me back. It would appear you’ve made something of yourself after all. Your father would be proud.” Howe’s voice sank into a threatening hiss. “I, on the other hand, want you dead more than ever.”

There was a dead silence.

Then the room erupted into chaos. “Howe!” Elizabeth screamed, and charged recklessly, smashing through the line of guards who tried to run to block her. She had the vague idea that Alistair was to her right and Zevran was to her left; her helmet was knocked from her head as she ducked a sword swing. Then she was through the line, and slammed bodily into Howe shield-first.

His head made a satisfying crack as it met the stone wall of the dungeon; he lashed out with one of his war-axes and she felt it graze the side of her neck; a slight tug as it caught on her right hairbun and then she smashed her shield into him three more times, trying to beat him into submission before she went for the kill.

“Maker spit on you,” Howe croaked. “I made your mother kiss my feet as she died – it was the last thing your father saw-”

Elizabeth screamed wordlessly, brought her sword back, and swung it two-handed at him.

Howe fell, headless, to the floor.

The cheap guard sword splintered on the stone wall behind him and broke in her hand. Still full of adrenaline and rage, she screamed again, throwing the hilt to the floor and punching the wall. It jarred her up to the shoulder, and she did it again, and again, relishing the pain, until Zevran seized her hands and trapped her in his arms. She shook violently, letting out one more hoarse, frustrated cry, and then slumped against him, gasping in shuddering breaths. The hair on the right side of her head was loose and falling around her face. She hated when it did that.

She reached up, distractedly, and found that Howe had neatly cut the braid from the right side of her head, and she was bleeding slightly on her neck. It didn’t hurt. Yet.

There was a faint cry from the other side of the room, and Elizabeth turned, dazed, to see what was going on. Zevran didn’t let go of her, and she didn’t shrug him off. She needed his hand on her shoulder to remind herself that everything was real, that she had just avenged her family and was still breathing.

Alistair and Morrigan had taken care of the rest of the guards, including a man in mage robes, and now were standing beside one of the racks in the chamber. A young man with blond hair was strapped there, and Alistair was busily cutting him out. He freed the man as Elizabeth arrived, and helped him stand.

The man was weak, but he had a noble bearing, and looked around at them all with a slightly haughty frown. “I… take it my father didn’t send you to rescue me, then, with all that talk of Cousland.”

“Unless your father is Arl Eamon, I’m afraid not,” Alistair said. “Who are you?”

“I’m Oswyn, son of Bann Sighard of Dragon’s Peak. You have the gratitude of Dragon’s Peak Bannorn, and if you speak to my father, he will give you any reward you ask for.” He looked sadly at his limbs. “I’m afraid I won’t be good for much, after my time in the torture chambers here. I can barely raise my arms anymore.”

“Will he speak against Loghain in the Landsmeet?” Elizabeth asked faintly.

“He had been told that there was no Landsmeet, not with the Arl of Redcliffe dead. But… if Arl Eamon sent you… then yes. If there is any public forum to speak against Howe’s legacy and the master who should have kept a tighter leash on him, then yes, my father will be first among them. Will you help me out of this castle?”

“We do seem to have plenty of guard uniforms,” Alistair said. “Elizabeth, how about you help him escape? The rest of us will deal with… what we came here for.”

“Very well,” Elizabeth agreed wearily.

Morrigan glanced at her. “You’ll probably want to do something about your hair. It looks quite odd.”

Elizabeth found a dagger and – not without a wince of regret – cut the hair from the other side of her head.

Morrigan nodded. “Passable. Put your helmet on and no one will know the difference.” Elizabeth did so, and followed the others back to the stairway to the living quarters.

Erlina had disappeared when they returned to Anora’s door, but when Elizabeth knocked, Erlina answered. Behind her stood Anora, as tall as Elizabeth in her own armour, although she moved a bit stiffly. “My thanks,” she said. “Now, there are two kinds of people in this house: those loyal to Howe, and those loyal to me. If Howe’s people find me, I’ll be killed. If my own people find me, they will escort me back to my father, whom I am not sure will not also kill me. I must reach Arl Eamon at all cost.”

“Understood,” Elizabeth said. “We will escort you and Lord Oswyn there with all discretion.”

But they had not gone ten paces before a swarm of guards, led by a lady knight, surrounded them. “Warden Elizabeth!” cried the lady knight. “In the name of the Regent, you are under arrest for the murder of Rendon Howe, Arl of Amaranthine and Denerim, and Teyrn of Highever.”

Elizabeth and Alistair looked at each other. Loghain had gotten word awfully fast… or he was guessing.

“Who are you? Do you have any proof of that?” Zevran asked, clearly having come to the same conclusion.

“I am Cauthrien, lieutenant of Lord Loghain. Your leader is Lady Elizabeth Cousland, whose family was slain by Arl Howe for siding with the Orlesians. She was observed coming to Howe’s estate, and I came as soon as I could – although since you are leaving, I presume I have come too late. I am here, therefore, to take you into custody. If you surrender, you will be shown mercy; otherwise, you shall all be slain here.”

Elizabeth set her mouth in a firm line. How had they been observed? Had Zevran missed something? Had Howe’s people been watching Erlina? Was this all an elaborate plot concocted by Anora, Howe, and Loghain jointly? No, that last couldn’t be true. Howe had not expected her. And Anora would surely not get herself captured by Howe just to get Elizabeth captured by Loghain.

“I will surrender if you let my companions go,” she said. “It is pointless to deny that I came here for my revenge, but my friends came only to help me. They have nothing to do with Howe personally. The crime is mine alone. If you will not, then yes, I will fight you, to defend my people.”

“Liz,” Zevran murmured, and she held out a hand to still him.

Cauthrien stared at her searchingly for a moment before nodding. “Come along, then.”

Elizabeth offered her replacement guard sword hilt first, and Cauthrien’s guards pulled her away from her friends, binding her hands behind her back. They led her to the front gate, where a covered wagon with the Mac Tyr emblem on the side waited.

Her friends watched her go, and she tried to smile encouragingly at them, but she couldn’t.

 

Cauthrien sat with her, watching her carefully. Elizabeth closed her eyes and let herself slump a little. Her mother would be displeased, but she was exhausted and didn’t care how Cauthrien perceived her.

“Why do you fight my lord?” Cauthrien asked suddenly. “Can you not see what he is trying to do for Ferelden?”

Elizabeth looked up. “I would rather not fight him. He left King Cailan to die, and seized his power, insisted that the Orlesians are a greater threat than the Blight, and allied with the man who slaughtered my family in cold blood, but he is also the Hero of River Dane, Ferelden’s greatest general, and has fought the darkspawn fiercely – disregarding his questionable actions at Ostagar.” She shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know what to think.”

“I see. Then know that you are working against the noblest man in Ferelden, who has suffered much to defend against the darkspawn invasion. Do you think he did not grieve his son-in-law and his King? No one was more loyal to the crown than him, but he did what he had to for the good of Ferelden. King Cailan should have listened to him instead of recklessly running out to fight with the Wardens. My lord did all he could to dissuade him, and held to his strategy instead of throwing away everything on impulsive, foolish sentiment. And since then, he has worked tirelessly, fighting the darkspawn and those opposed to him alike.”

“As for hating the Orlesians, he has good cause. When he was a boy, he had a mabari companion who was kidnapped and tortured to death by an Orlesian noble. He fought against them with King Maric for years, and did you know that King Cailan was suspiciously friendly with Empress Celene? The Orlesians could attack at any time, and he does not want to fight Orlesians, rebellious Banns, and the darkspawn at the same time, but he is prepared to.”

“Surely the Orlesians will not attack while we are besieged by a Blight,” Elizabeth said. “I heard they were prepared to ride to our aid, with their Wardens in the lead.”

“You are naive,” Cauthrien told her. “Perhaps they would help us in the Blight, but then what would happen after? You think they would simply ride home again? At the very least we would owe them a debt, one we cannot repay. At best, we would be ripe for the taking. The farther away they are, the quicker Ferelden can build up again, once we defeat the darkspawn, to present a strong front against Orlais.”

“I never thought of it that way,” Elizabeth said. “I was only thinking about surviving.”

“And that is why you should not interfere with my lord’s designs. He considers all things, not just the present. He would rather die than let the country fall into enemy hands so easily.”

Elizabeth met Cauthrien’s intense stare with one of her own. “And he would let the country die with him?”

“Even the Blight will not wipe out all of us,” Cauthrien insisted.

“How did you come into Loghain’s service?”

“I lived on a farm when I was young, as Lord Loghain himself did. One day, I saw a man attacked by bandits and ran to his aid. He didn’t need it, as it was my lord, but he took me into his service and trained me personally into the knight I am today.”

“You are a good and loyal knight,” Elizabeth said, “and you have given me much to think about. My companion Alistair only hates Loghain because his mentor died at King Cailan’s side, but… no story only has one side. Thank you for telling me yours.”

“I am pleased to know you can see sense,” Cauthrien said. “From what I heard of you, you were a stubborn, naive idealist convinced that my lord is evil.”

“I knew Howe was evil,” Elizabeth said, “and to hear Loghain trusted him was… disturbing.”

“That, I will grant you,” Cauthrien said frankly. “My lord… changed after he began working with Arl Howe. But inside, he still is as he ever was: a good man in a hard place. Come, we have arrived.”

 

She was escorted to the dungeon of Fort Drakon, the castle on the side of the mountain overlooking Denerim, untied, made to change into a worn, ragged dress, and pushed none-too-gently into a barred cell. There was another prisoner in the cell next to her, but otherwise, the cell block was quiet. She sat quietly in the corner. There was no point in trying to escape from Fort Drakon.

“Hey, lassie!” the prisoner next to her called. “Whatcha in here for?”

“Killing Rendon Howe,” she answered.

“Good on you! ‘Bout time the Butcher of Denerim got his come-uppance. What for? I mean, lots of people hate him. He’s been on a bloody rampage ever since he became Arl of Denerim. But what did he do to you specifically?”

“He killed my family,” Elizabeth said.

“The usual, then. Me, I’m in here for theft. I was just trying to feed my wife and kids! How was I supposed to know he was a nobleman, dressed like he was? And then he kicked up a row and now I’m in maximum security even though I’m just a poor man off the street.”

Elizabeth did not try to speak to the prisoner further, and he gave up trying to talk to her.

After about an hour, there was a bit of a noise at the door, and she looked up to see Loghain entering the cell block. She watched him walk to her cell but made no move to stand. She wondered how pathetic she looked, in her ragged dress and with ugly chopped hair.

“Elizabeth Cousland,” he said.

She nodded once. “That was my name before I became a Grey Warden.”

“You bear some loyalty to that name still, or you would not have broken into Rendon’s estate.”

“How could you reward him for massacring my family?” she asked. “He claims it was because they were friendly with Orlais. I know he did it out of his lust for power and control. You gave him Highever, you gave him Denerim. He would have come for you too. He caused discord among the Banns and imprisoned and tortured the innocent. Why would you keep such a snake in your house?”

“He was useful to me,” Loghain said, frowning, “and I do not have to explain my actions to one who has spent the last six months tramping from one side of Ferelden to another to no purpose.”

“We have each done our part for Ferelden,” she said. “I have only heard a little, but you have held off the Blight while I sought to gather an army. If we could only unite the Banns under one leader, Ferelden would be stronger for both of us.”

“What army have you gathered? A handful of mages who would have answered the king anyway, a troop of Dalish, dwarves who have never left their tunnels?”

She swallowed. “I worked hard to convince them to join Ferelden. At least let them fight.”

“You are a child,” he said, but it was not unkindly. “You remind me of Anora, when she was your age; quieter, perhaps, but no less stubborn. You have worked hard to achieve very little. I hear you are a gifted warrior. I regret that I must have you executed.”

“But-”

He lifted a hand. “You – the Grey Wardens are a threat to me. Not only for murdering my adviser, but because you divide the country against me. Your superior, Duncan, said that victory would not be achieved through force of arms alone. He is incorrect. Be grateful that you will miss the violence to come.”

That brought her to her feet. “I will be grateful for no such thing! If my friends are to fight, I will fight with them!”

“I’m afraid not,” he said, and turned to go.

She was shaking with anger. “How long.”

“What?”

“At least tell me how long I have left to live here.”

“Evening.” Loghain left.

She glanced at the window in the top of the cell block. She still had a couple hours.

First thing: she had to get out of the cell. She flopped on the floor and coughed violently. After a few minutes she began to groan as if in pain.

“Hey!” yelled her fellow prisoner. “I think this girl’s sick!” The lone guard made no answer. “No, really, she sounds bad!”

“I think I’m going to die,” she gasped. “Howe… poisoned me.”

“She’s gonna die of poison! At least give her some medicine!”

“All right, all right, stop your yammering,” the guard said, approaching them. He unlocked the door to Elizabeth’s cell. “Right, now what kind of pois-”

Elizabeth launched herself upwards, fist first, into his jaw. His jaw clicked shut loudly, his head snapped back, and he fell backwards, unconscious, to the ground.

“Er, I knew you were bluffing!” the other prisoner said, uncertainly. “Good going. Now let’s get us both out of here.”

“Can you fight?” Elizabeth said, taking the guard’s uniform and sword. It was a little big on her but she didn’t care. “It might be safer for you to stay here if you are not due to be executed. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m just trying to survive.”

“Can’t you… you know… knock out one of the other guards and take his uniform?”

“I can try,” she said doubtfully. “I’ll be back if I have an opportunity.”

She had to sneak up on the guards at the entrance to the prison; she kicked one in the groin and gave the other a concussion. When both were unconscious, she dragged them arduously back to the cells, unlocked her fellow prisoner, and locked up the guards.

“Thank you,” said the other prisoner, bowing to her deeply. “I am in your debt. I’ll hide in the kennels until I can find a way to leave; the mabari like me.”

“Good luck,” she told him. “I… am going to improvise.”

“Good luck to you.”

 

She peeked shyly around the corner of the captain’s office. “E-excuse me, ser, I’m new here, and I was wondering what my assignment was.”

“Come in, recruit. None of that dithering.” The captain glared at her impatiently. “What’s your name, soldier?”

“A-agatha Dunkelwater, ser.”

“Dunkelwater… Dunkelwater… Don’t remember a Dunkelwater. You’re new, soldier?”

“Yes, ser. What should I do, ser?”

“You can find the rest of your patrol. Ross and Harald are scheduled on in ten minutes and they can show you the ropes. Off with you.”

“Um, um, ser, where do I find them?”

“They should be in the armoury, suiting up. Dismissed.”

She scurried to the door and down the hall. Two men were in the armoury as she had been told, and she pretended still to be shy as she approached them. “Ummm… excuse me?”

“Oh, look, Ross, it’s a chick! And a cute one, too!”

“Shut up, Harald, she’s in uniform, that means she’s not for hitting on. Yes, miss?”

“Why not, though?” whined Harald. “With all the darkspawn news going around, I could use a girlfriend to cheer me up!”

“Um, um, I’ve been assigned to patrol with you. I’m new here, you see, and…”

“Right, right. Lucky for you, our patrol doesn’t go too far from the fort. Come on, lass, stand up straight, look like a proud soldier.” She put on her best gormless look and did as Ross said. “That’s better. Now, after me: march!”

“How come she’s following you?” Harald complained.

“And don’t mind Harald, he got dumped two weeks ago. His girlfriend decided she’d rather live in Kirkwall. He’s not a bad sort underneath. Harald, you do remember today’s password, right?”

“Password?” she asked nervously.

“Right, you have to have a password not just to get in to the fort, but out again,” Harald said. “It’s a right pain, especially when we’ve got duties and stuff. Yeah, I remember it. You ready to go, new girl? What’s your name, anyway?”

“A-agatha, ser.”

“Ooh, she called me ser, are you sure-”

“Quite sure,” Ross said. “Just follow us, Agatha, and we’ll make sure your first patrol is nice and uneventful.”

They marched out of the fortress without incident, and once outside, Elizabeth began looking for opportunities to sneak away. The other two guards were very attentive to her, as their apprentice, and she wasn’t sure it was going to work, especially since there were other people in the street as well. Perhaps if she claimed she needed a bathroom…?

Then she saw Zevran, waving enthusiastically at her from a dark ally. She frantically shook her head, putting a figer to her lips, and he put his head on one side, confused. She looked at the two guards ahead of her, but they hadn’t been looking. How to communicate with him… and the others whom she now saw were behind him.

He drew a finger over his throat while pointing to the two guards, and she shook her head, instead gesturing to herself and making a roundabout gesture. He shrugged and disappeared.

A few minutes later, Sten and Oghren appeared in the road carrying a table sideways. Elizabeth stepped back to let them pass, her escorts stepped forward, and Zevran grabbed her hand and ran to the next alley behind the shield of the table.

He was grinning. “Not so bad, eh? How did you get out?”

“Knocked out the guard in the cells and took his uniform… Oh dear, now they’re looking for me. They’re not bad people, they just work for Loghain.” She let her head fall forward tiredly. “Did Anora make it safely?”

“She did, and she was very upset about you. Not that she would have done anything differently. Let’s be away before your new friends find us and I have to kill them anyway.”

 

Elizabeth and Alistair were shown in to Arl Eamon’s study, where Anora had apparently set up. The Queen had changed into a gown more fitting of her position. Zevran unobtrusively took a spot beside the doorway. Huan was there and he frisked all over her, barking, before she got him to settle down and lie on the floor beside her.

“Maker’s breath, it’s good to see you in one piece,” Eamon said.

Anora rose and took her hands. “I was praying for your safe return. I know it seemed like a trap when Cauthrien arrived, and perhaps it was, but I promise you it was not one I set. I was… uncertain you would respond as you did, but you risked much to save me and I am truly grateful.”

“I am glad to see you arrived safely,” Elizabeth said. “I… met your father.”

“My father?” Anora frowned. “What did he say?”

“He said I am a threat to Ferelden, and that my work in gathering allies is a useless waste. I asked if he would not join forces with us rather than fight us, but he refused.”

Anora shook her head. “My father was always stubborn, even before he… changed. He has gone mad. I didn’t believe it at first, but he is gripped with a paranoia so severe it prevents him from seeing sense. He believes he can see this through with his own strength. Your allies are powerful, and he downplays them for his own mind. But come, we must work quickly to come up with a plan that will remove him from power.”

“Yes, what do you have in mind?” Elizabeth asked.

“My father will probably even now be telling his allies that you and your companions are dangerous murderers who have kidnapped and mind-controlled me. He may even believe it.”

“Is there no way to reason with him?”

“I’d thought so. I’d hoped so. Howe’s influence over him was strong, and his death can only be a good thing.”

“Wait, Howe’s death, or Loghain’s death?” Alistair raised a questioning finger.

Anora looked coldly at him. “Howe’s death, of course. But it is too little, too late – my father is committed to his course. Now, there are two accusations you can bring against him in the Landsmeet. One is the death of my husband at Ostagar. The other is the attempted poisoning of Arl Eamon. However, Ostagar is only an exercise in ‘what if’. My father will be able to dismiss that claim easily; after all, they say that no one, not even Cailan, believed victory was possible at Ostagar. The poisoning of Arl Eamon is not terribly strong, either, since I understand the poisoner has gone missing and cannot be questioned. Anyone could have done it, or his sickness caused by something else entirely. Miraculous recovery by the Sacred Ashes of Andraste will not be believed by everyone.”

“So we have nothing, really, then,” Elizabeth said.

“We must find something,” Anora told her. “Or rather, you must find something – I dare not leave this estate until the Landsmeet. Something that nails my father in a crime. It cannot be one of Howe’s crimes, either. It must have his name firmly attached.”

“Sounds good,” Alistair said cheerfully. “Any ideas where to start?”

“The alienage is in great unrest,” Anora said. “It began shortly after Ostagar, but few elves went to the battle – which means Howe and my father must have given them reason to be upset. We only have two days – one day, really, since you look exhausted, and that is tomorrow. I want you to investigate. This is our only chance. You must find something.”

“We shall do so, Your Majesty,” Elizabeth said.

“With due respect, Your Highness, you could have sent this information with your maid,” Eamon said.

Anora nodded. “I know. I feared for my safety as Howe’s prisoner, but the true reason I sent Erlina was the hope that we might become allies. I know you require a stronger candidate for the throne than my father, and I know you hope to raise Alistair to the position, but even with his blood, he is no king. Surely all can see it. Besides that, he is a Grey Warden, and it will look as if you are attempting to put a Grey Warden on the throne, which I know is not permitted by that order.”

“That’s true,” Alistair said, looking hopeful.

“I am already queen. Who do you think has run the country for the last five years? Cailan tried to help, and he was charismatic and popular, but in truth I did most of the work. This country needs a strong ruler, not an untested one who does not even want the throne.”

“Alistair has learned much on his journey,” Eamon said. “It is true he has not been tested as you have, but he knows how to lead troops to defend his land, how to stand and fight for justice, he knows compassion and mercy, and he knows the perils of responsibility. And he is of Theirin blood, descended four hundred years from King Calenhad himself – a line so venerable should not be broken now. And he is so like to his brother he would soon garner great popularity. Besides, that is what advisors are for.”

“Oh good, it’s a popularity contest,” Alistair mumbled.

“Why not marry them?” Zevran suggested from the doorway. “Best of both worlds! Happens all the time in Antiva.”

“This is not Antiva,” Anora scoffed. “And even if he… were not so like to Cailan, it would still… be odd.”

“I don’t know either,” Alistair said. “I wasn’t looking to become king, but becoming king and married? That’s… um… a lot to take in.”

“It is a good suggestion,” Eamon said. “I suggest that we all think on it.”

Anora nodded. “Very well. Now, I shall retire to my chambers. Elizabeth, if you would join me for a moment, I have something I wish to say in private.”

“I shall be there presently,” Elizabeth said.

When Anora had left, Eamon sighed and shook his head. “So spirited. I remember when Loghain first brought her to Denerim. Poor Cailan was a good boy, but Anora was always two steps ahead. Had him jumping when she snapped her fingers from the first time she batted her eyelashes at him. She may be trouble. But I am glad she is here instead of actively working against us.”

“Is it really such a big deal, her not having royal blood?” Alistair asked. “My mother was a maid.”

“We did not fight the Orlesians all those years just to lose our royal line in a single generation,” Eamon said. “Not when there’s a surviving son of the blood. Your mother may have been a maid, but your father was still Maric Theirin.”

“The crown looks better on her anyway,” Alistair grumbled under his breath. “You know, what have fun planning my future. I’m going to go talk to Riordan. He knew Duncan. I think he was at my Joining.”

“Elizabeth, you should hurry to speak with Anora,” Eamon said as Alistair left. “Alistair will come around.”

She bowed and left.

 

Anora was waiting for her and Erlina was serving tea. “Hello, Elizabeth. Let me begin by saying I knew your family. Eleanor in particular was dear to me, and what Howe did to them… was unforgivable. I think it very fitting that he died at your hands.” Elizabeth nodded, not trusting herself to speak. “I will be blunt. You have shaped the fate of the nation immensely, and Eamon respects you for good reason. I would ask for your support in my bid for the throne.”

“I am no longer a Cousland,” Elizabeth objected, for the umpteenth time, it felt like. “Just as you say Alistair would be unsuitable for kingship because he is a Grey Warden, would my vote even be heard in the Landsmeet?” She looked at the floor. “I cannot even suggest anyone to take care of poor Highever.”

“I will certainly appoint a suitable person, should I become Queen,” Anora said. “A good Bann, a young one, perhaps… what would you say to Bann Teagan?”

Elizabeth had to smile. “He is a good man. He reminds me a little of my brother. Assuming he could be persuaded away from Rainesfere, I could think of no one better.”

“I will keep him in mind, then. Now, to further discuss our alliance…”

 

When she was finally allowed to return to her own bedchamber, she closed the door and stood indecisively for a long time. Huan was in the arl’s mabari kennels. She was so tired with everything that had happened, and it seemed that more of it would be happening.

She went to sit at the lady’s table, looking at herself carefully for the first time in months. It was dark outside, and her only illumination was from a pair of lamps, but she could see enough. Her light blue eyes were tired and there were grey shadows around them. Her dark brown hair was short for the first time since she was a little girl, and if she looked more carefully… Yes, there were grey hairs beginning to appear, not all in one place, scattered through her scalp. She reached for her knife and tried to even the edges a bit more; the left side was still longer than the right side.

Zevran took the knife from her and laid it on the table. “Let me get that.” He picked up instead a pair of scissors and moved around behind her, running his fingers through her hair. She closed her eyes and let him snip away. “You look cute with short hair.”

“I liked having long hair,” Elizabeth said. “I know it will grow out, but I’ve had long hair for years.” She tried not to let out a sniffle. It was just hair. “How did you get in?”

“The window.”

“You are crazy.”

He chuckled. “I know.” He paused, measuring both sides to see if they were even, then went back to snipping. “You were magnificent, fighting Howe. Such fury and grace and implacable doom I have never seen.”

“You flatter me,” she said.

“I assure you, I do not. But you also scared me today, when you went off with that woman. I thought I would never see you again.”

“Loghain is not Howe. He wouldn’t make me disappear even if I am an inconvenience. Besides, you were coming to get me.”

“I don’t know if we would have made it. We all had different stupid ideas for getting in. I was pushing for me and Oghren to be circus performer brothers, come to entertain the soldiers.” She had to smile at that. “Though I don’t know how we would have gotten down to the cells.”

“There were a lot of guards in the way,” she agreed.

His movements slowed. “…There’s one story that I never told you about. Would you like to hear it now?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Once, there were three of us. Taliesin was there, and me, and… Rinna. An elven lass, and a marvel of a woman. Tough, smooth, wicked, with eyes that gleamed like justice. Everything I thought I desired.”

“She sounds perfect,” Elizabeth said admiringly, though she was wondering how much she herself felt short of Zevran’s ideal. She wasn’t any of those things.

“She was special,” Zevran said, and his voice wasn’t quite even around the edges. “I had closed off my heart, I thought, but she touched something within me. It frightened me.” He put down the scissors and ran both hands through her hair before beginning to braid it in a french braid. Even if his voice was tight, his hands were steady. “There was a time, until a certain day, when I was cocky and arrogant. I believed myself the best Crow in Antiva, and I bragged of my exploits often, both as an assassin and a lover.”

She wanted to tease him about being more cocky and arrogant but couldn’t bring herself to. He wasn’t that arrogant. “What happened?”

“One of the Crow masters grew tired of my boasting. My bid for an incredibly difficult mark was accepted, much to my surprise… A wealthy merchant with many guards, to be dispatched completely silently. …When Taliesin revealed to me that Rinna had accepted a bribe from the merchant and told him of our plan, I agreed- I readily agreed that she needed to pay the price and allowed Taliesin to kill her.” He tied her hair with a ribbon and leaned on the back of her chair, knuckles white. She was completely still; she could partly see him in the mirror, but his head was bowed. “Rinna begged me not to. On her knees, with tears in her eyes, she told me that she loved me and had not betrayed me. …I laughed in her face and told her that even if it were true, I didn’t care. Taliesin cut her throat and I watched her bleed out, staring up at me. I spat on her for betraying the Crows. When Taliesin and I finally assassinated the merchant, we found the true source of his information. Rinna had not betrayed us after all.”

His voice had sunk to a whisper and his arms were shaking. “I… wanted to tell the Crows what we had done, our mistake. Taliesin convinced me not to; he said it would be a waste. So we reported that Rinna had died in the attempt. …We needn’t have bothered. The Crows knew what we had done. The master who disliked me told me so to my face. He said the Crows knew… and they didn’t care. And one day, my turn would come.”

“…You once asked me why I wanted to leave the Crows. In truth, what I wanted… was to die. That was why… I came all the way to Ferelden, with rumours of darkspawn, hoping… hoping there would be something here that would finish me. I thought it might be you; what better death than at the hands of one of the fabled Grey Wardens? But… you spared me. And… here I am.”

She spun the chair around, so quickly he almost fell over, and launched herself at him, throwing her arms around him and holding him as tightly as she could. He staggered backwards until they bumped into the wall, and there they rested, and he put his arms around her and held her just as tightly, clinging to her as if to reassure himself that she was real. She put her head on his shoulder and felt his face was damp; he had been crying as he spoke and the thought almost made her burst into tears as well, but she controlled it and stood quietly. “You’ve had the most awful life. I’m so sorry.”

“It… has been difficult sometimes to keep smiling,” he murmured. “I swore I would never talk about it, but I am glad that I told you.”

“Do you still want to die?”

She felt him shake his head slightly. “No. No, not anymore. I found you.”

“I am not… not her.”

“You don’t have to be, mi amor,” he whispered, and kissed her neck. She lifted her head and kissed him on the mouth, and then they were kissing each other almost in a frenzy. He loosened her hair from the braid he had just put it in and they tumbled onto the bed. As their clothes came off, she used everything he himself had taught her, every trick and technique, until his eyes rolled back and he whined in pleasure. And she opened herself to him more fully than she had yet dared to do, for she was free too now, in a way. As he cried out, a strangled sound that might have started as her name, she came too, arching her back as she rode him. He reached up and caught her as she came down, drawing her down to him, their sticky, sweaty bodies cooling off together on top of the blankets.

“Zev… oh… Zev…”

He laughed breathlessly. “I always knew you would fall for me. I should have warned you from the moment we met.”

“You’re a danger to the public,” she agreed, giggling a little.

“They used to post signs about me at the Antivan border,” he said, and made her giggle harder.

When her laughter had lapsed into contented silence, she thought of another thing she wanted to say. “That’s why I believed you, when we met.”

“Hm? Because you knew you would fall for me? Are you clairvoyant?”

She smiled, but more seriously this time. “Because of your eyes then. I always wondered why someone so joyful would look so… hopeless.”

“Do I look so now?”

She looked deep into his amber eyes. They were curious, a little worried, but not lost; there was a spark there that could not co-exist with hopelessness. “No.”

He kissed her.

 

Previous chapter: Haven; next chapter: Landsmeet